Heaven in a Tent
by 3hours
Summary: A very short and schmoopy post-Chosen fix-it, in which the entire ATS s5 storyline is avoided. Dru has a vision and enough sympathy for Spike to deliver it to the right person.


A very short and schmoopy post-Chosen fix-it, in which the entire ATS s5 storyline is avoided. Dru has a vision and enough sympathy for Spike to deliver it to the right person.

Written for Catelynstark on LJ, during the Halloween trick or treat games in 2012.

**Warning:** here be mush, schmoop, and not much else!

* * *

"Where am I?"

Spike's world was filled with bright light and agony. Then, abruptly, there is neither, though his body still aches with the phantom remnants of pain. He blinks up at the familiar face above him. Her head is silhouetted against what he'd thought was the bright blue sky at first, but which turns out to be canvas.

They are in a tent. Why the hell are they in a tent, of all things?

"Shh, love. You're alive, that's all that matters."

"You're not Buffy," he mumbles after a moment's hesitation.

She frowns down at him. "What makes you say that?"

"She never calls me love."

The woman doesn't look like Buffy either. Or, rather, doesn't look like the Buffy he'd seen for the past year or more. This one looks more like she did back when he first met her. Carefree and smiling. Really, truly smiling.

For a brief moment he is reminded of the Buffybot, but it passes. Her eyes are alive like the Bot's never were and she looks at him in wonder, as though she can't quite believe that he's here. Her hand keeps reaching out to touch him. Little strokes along his arm, little touches on his hand and his shoulder. Like she needs to reassure herself.

"Well, I am Buffy. And you are my love. And trust me when I say we are going to have words later about what you said down in-" She pauses to swallow. "Down in the Hellmouth, before you died."

The implication of her words is too much to think about, so he brushes it aside. For now. "What happened? Sort of expected to stay dead."

"Your ex showed up in LA at Angel's hotel. That's where we were staying, after-" Another pause as she searches for words. "After everything. It's a funny story, really." She laughs and seems a little embarrassed.

"Harmony?"

"No, Drusilla. But Harm was there, too. The three of us had lunch." She catches his look and hurries to add: "Don't ask, it was a weird day. Anyway, Dru said you were here. She'd had a vision."

"You had lunch with-" He trails off and shakes his head. She'd said to not ask and all things considered, he probably doesn't want to know. "Right, so, where exactly _is_ here?"

"Sunnydale. Or, I guess it's the Sunnydale crater now. There's not much left. You were at the bottom of it, inside the medallion. I've been here for the past week, living in a tent and digging."

"Inside the-" He trails off once more. Nothing's making any sense, but she's here, _Buffy _is here with him, and she has to be real. Just _has_ to, because nothing but reality could be this insane. "Sunnydale is gone?"

"Collapsed in on itself, thanks to you."

"Good riddance."

She laughs again, and it's a delight to hear. He never thought he'd ever hear that sound again. Not like this. Not this happy. When was the last time either of them had been happy?

But there's a line of worry between her eyebrows suddenly as she asks him if he remembers where he was. In between then and now. In between being alive and being alive again. It takes a few moments before he gets what she means and understands the significance of it.

"It's all right, kitten. I wasn't in heaven."

The tension in her shoulders releases. He can see the relief flood her eyes and face with the knowledge that she hadn't sentenced him to go through what she had, before it quickly gives way to indignation on his behalf.

"You closed the Hellmouth and saved the world, you _deserved_ heaven! I don't know who's in charge up there but it was the least-"

He reaches up and places a finger against her lips, silencing her.

"It could never have been heaven to me, without you."

* * *

It's the middle of the day so they can't leave the tent.

That's okay. They don't have anywhere to be and they don't particularly want to go either. It's the beginning of the rest of their lives for the slayer and her champion and they are taking it slow. Nice and slow and gentle, like they never were but always wished they could be.

They greet their future with limbs entwined, accompanied by a chorus of soft moans and whispered nothings that mean everything.

The End


End file.
